Fallen One
by forgotten-serenade
Summary: Third chapters finally up! He was numb before she hit the ground eventual Mylar GabrielxMohinderAU. are Sylar and Gabriel truely one and the same? click to find out. rated for gore swearing and eventual slash. genre may change NOT Sylar/OC
1. fallen from grace

Title: Fallen one

Chapter 1: Fallen from Grace  
rating: R

Word count: 1,417  
Summary: he was numb before she hit the floor

Spoilers: throughout 1x1-1x21 "the Hard Part"/ AU from there  
Warnings: slight gore, blunt hints to murder, eventual slash

A.N. - To save you all confusion, Sylar can't be heard aloud, Gabriel can. over here September is cooler than usual so I'm using climate for MA for NY.

Wrier:(sticks tongue out(

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For the first time in almost a year Sylar released his hold on poor Gabriel Gray only to send him into a hell like no other.That, that...**_Abomination_** forced him to _kill_ his own **_mother_**.

He sat there on his knees, looking somewhat like a lost child. It was too much- memories of what he'd been forced to do plagued his mind; her last words still lingered, echoing in his mind. _"Gabriel."_

_  
_ "Gabriel." This time it was Sylar who'd said his name, deep in his mind. Gabriel despised the voice; how it was a crude mirror of his own.

"Look at what you've done" _his _voice sneered condescendingly. Gabe covered his ears, it wasn't his fault; he'd had no control over himself.

"You should have, it's all your fault!"

He shook his head; it wasn't his fault...was it? _No! _Sylar was profound when it came to mind games; he knew how his mind worked to cause the most damage._  
_

"No, it wasn't my fault!" the timid man screamed into the empty room. Oh why had she named him Gabriel, he was anything but heavenly- and surely no angel would fall this far from grace, he hadn't asked to become the angel of death.

"She's dead because of you, you killed her. Her blood is on your hands- It's all your fault!" The voice persisted.

Gabriel clutched his head tighter in hopes to block out the images that played before his eyes of the wretched, grotesque things he's been forced to do- the people he's killed; Brian, that child's family,the waitress, Zane, Dale, the painter and so many more nameless faces... Blood poured from the open skulls forming a sort of macabre waterfall. Each face contorted in pure pain and agony. He tried so hard to keep the contents of his stomach down only to fail as the final picture showed behind his closed eyes- his mother's bloody decapitated corpse laying there- eyes blank as dolls eyes. Those eyes bore into him almost accusingly in their blank state.

His chestnut eyes shot open abruptly, blinking blearily in the absence of contacts or glasses; though the images had been so crisp in his mind. His old glasses had long since fallen when he'd... oh God... No, he had to get out. He grasped around for his glasses after seeing the blurry form of his frames; only to toss them away as he felt the still warm blood on the lens. Sylar let out a maniacal laugh at his dare he say 'weaker half's' outburst.

Gabriel, on the other hand; had to get out of the apartment- it was beginning to suffocate him. The walls and other once distinguished forms were now blurring together; trapping him inside. He glanced frantically attempting to pin point where the door was..._there_. Gabe scrambled to his feet, running blindly while trying to avoid the corpse of Virginia Gray.

He stumbled up the stairs, astonishingly making it up three flights before tripping on the first few steps of the fourth floor. He opened his eyes, slightly dizzy from the fall; the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. Dumbfounded, he lifted a hand to his lip; teeth nearly bit clean through. He tumbled to his feet hastily, wiping the blood the sleeve of his black blazer, he took off again.

He managed up the last three flights without accident and pushed himself through the roof door. A cold September chill struck him full force as he stared blankly from the dull rooftop. A thought struck him suddenly; He could end it all here. He wandered to the edge of the roof, with surprising grace for one with vision as bad as his. Yes, it would be easy- quick and painless if he missed the fire escape; a seven story fall. And if he landed just right no one would be able to do anything to help him-like he deserved. He took another step; yes, it would be easy.

"you don't have the guts; besides what would your _mother_ think?"

His whole world seemed to crash before him with that one line. He didn't deserve to live, couldn't bring himself to take his own life; she wouldn't want that, no matter what. He took a few clumsy steps back before falling to his knees, finally taking a breath he'd forgotten to take before the tears began to fall. What started out as quiet tears quickly elevated to deep pain racked sobs. For a while he stayed like that, hunched over as blood and tears mingled on the concrete surface below him.

After what seemed like forever, the tears finally dissipated and Gabriel felt drained; physically, mentally, and emotionally. And that accursed voice in the back of his head kept chanting "You're pathetic." insistently.

"I may be pathetic, but I can end this; I can get rid of you." He said to the empty rooftop as he scrambled to his feet again, His voice gravelly from crying. That malignant voice in his head was finally silent as he reached into the pocket of his tan slacks and fished out his cell phone. Gabe began to dial out a number only to stop halfway; what if he wouldn't listen?

Mohinder had plenty of reasons to not listen to him. After all, he _was_ a murderer. _What the hell_; he dialed the last few digits and waited. Moments passed before the call was answered; Gabriel took a deep breath.

"Hello?" a well toned accent chimed, he hadn't realized how much he missed that voice. Gabriel swallowed hard, how could he really ask him for anything? He'd killed the man's father for God's sake.

"Hello?"

"This was a pointless idea; did you really think he'd help you of all people?" Sylar sneered; ending his silence. A sudden Fatigue seemed to ebb away at the poor watchmaker; at that moment all Gabriel wanted to do was go to sleep one way or another- hoping it was all just a macabre dream.

"Mohinder." His voice was still hoarse from crying, he wiped away the blood that trailed down his chin.

"Who is this?" the Indian questioned, though it sounded like he knew who Gabriel was. Gabriel cleared his throat before trying again, shivering from the cold.

"I can't control it" he choked out.

"Can't control what? Who is this?" the voice sounded agitated, but Sylar could hear his elevated heartbeat over the phone, Gabriel could not, Mohinder was fully away of whom he was, not Gabriel. Gabriel licked his lips, wincing as his tongue met the are he'd nearly bit through, unable to hold back a slight hiss of pain.

"I..._He_... killed her, Mohinder. I killed my own mother!" He forced the bile back down his throat, and willed his legs to hold him up, new tears found their way into his eyes. A gasp on the other side of the phone, did he finally know?

"Sylar?" Why did he feel disappointed to not hear his true name from this man?

"No, Not Sylar now, this is Gabriel." Darkness seemed to fill his vision as the events of the day finally took their toll on the poor watchmaker.

"Where are you?" His eyes began to droop; he didn't even hear the question.

"I'm tired Mohinder, so tired." His voice was thick and slurred.

"Sy-Gabriel, tell me where you are." His voice sounded so distant now. Gabriel found himself relying solely on will power alone to murmur "189 forty-eight Ave, L.I.C." as the roof came crashing towards him. The cell hit the ground landing near the unconscious man.

"Sy-Gabriel. Gabriel? Are you there? Gabriel!"

* * *

Ok so I made him be in Queens happier peoples (yes, Long Island City is in Queens i looked it up), got a lot of private messages correcting me, dude I'm a sixteen year old from Massachusetts, I dunno New York. We're rivals with NY jk lol


	2. The Unwilling Savior

Story Title: Fallen one

Chapter 2: The Unwilling Savior  
Rating: R

Word count: 1331  
Summary: Mohinder couldn't believe himself

Genre: angst/romance/ possible fluff (in the future)

Spoilers: throughout 1x1-1x21 "the Hard Part"/ AU from there  
Warnings: slight gore, hints to murder, eventual slashes

**A.N. For the sake of continuity I'm rephrasing the intro sentence from chapter 1 for chapter 2. and I'm trying to make it as accurate as possible so… I'm just gonna have Ted drop off the face of the earth for a while (since he doesn't die till episode 22)**_**I finally edited the address for Sylar's mama, at least its in Queens this time**_

* * *

For the first time in almost a week Mohinder was on his way home, though it didn't seem like much of a home anymore, more like a sort of hellish reminder of what he'd let happen. He had his father's murderer in his clutches and he blew it; he hadn't even bothered to clean up the wreckage _he_ left in his wake. He couldn't even say the man's name anymore without a shiver running down his spine or the acidic taste of bile in his mouth. He reassured himself he wouldn't be long; all he needed were a few essentials from the apartment; a few articles of clothing and a couple of nick-knacks here and there.

He parked the taxi right in front of the old apartment complex, wrenching his jacket closer as the wind blew. _A cold front_, he mused to himself. As he walked up the stairs and entered the building. Nothing had changed, not that he expected it to; the wallpaper still barely clung to the walls, a hint of mildew wafted through the air. Yes, it was all the same, even how the floor boards leading to his unit creaked. The door was still unlocked from when he'd made his escape carrying Peter over his shoulder.

He forced thoughts of the deceased Petrelli to the back of his head. Hadn't he said something about being able to heal?- or perhaps that was just the Indians mind helping him cope with the death. Whichever the case, he continued to rummage through his room; taking what few clothes he had packed in the drawers and placed them on the bed. He reached under the queen sized bed and pulled out a suitcase, thankfully he never bothered to fully unpack from his little road trip. He stashed away the rest of the clothes and headed back to the living room, suitcase in tow.

He finally got a good look at the destruction _**He**_ left in his wake; the living room was in complete disarray. The map which once hung lazily from the wall now laid in pieces on the floor- countless push pins and articles scattered across the ground. His laptop, once constantly calculating the algorithm, as now smashed into a myriad of indistinguishable parts; Much to his dismay. And random pieces of furniture were either broken or tossed about; but what hit him the hardest were all the glass shards and bloodstains, his own blood (and Peters), scattered all over the floor. _Should have known better_, he mused as turned to the kitchen for cleaning solution.

The sharp scent of ammonia burned his eyes as he scrubbed the carpet, tears soon began to fall as he rubbed more vigorously, eyes transfixed on the stain, almost as though getting rid of it would be able to remove the memories from his mind. What seemed like a millenia passed before he looked up from the now faded sun-burnt stain to the clock beside him-that once hung from the wall across the room.

_Strange, _He paused. It seemed entirely intact-not even the glass cover cracked as the hands pointed proudly '8:35'. He did a double take, had he really been there that long? He glanced out the window; dark already? Nearly an hour had passed since he'd left the compound. He rose to his feet, and threw the -now pink tinted- rag into the trash. He'd have to get going; Molly would need another treatment before she went to bed.

Mohinder grabbed the suitcase- sparing one last glance to the destruction that was his (father's) apartment – before closing the door behind him. He quickened his pace, willing himself to leave the room behind, only to be greeted by the cold early September chill as he stepped out of the complex. He opened the car door- throwing the suitcase in the backseat- and sat down staring at the steering wheel. He sat there in silence until the song "all these lives" startled him, he automatically whipped out his cell phone.

"Hello?"  
Was it a wrong number?- it had to be…only a few people knew this number- it was unlisted after all. The sound of deep breathing carved through the silence like a knife through butter.

"Hello?"

It was starting to remind him of a horror movie he'd seen while on the road with Za- _**Him**__. The one with the killer who kept calling that girl._ he remembered not so fondly.

"Mohinder"

The voice, this time, sounded more coarse and somewhat slurred. Who in the world was it? he sounded too much like... _No it cant be. _his mind froze, it couldn't be _him; _it just couldn't be.

"Who is this?"

A sense of dread seemed to take hold of him. No, its not _Him, _can't be. _please don't let it be him_. He reasoned against the odds that seemed to stack against him .The person, he refused to believe this person was _Him, _on the other line coughed roughly.

"I can't control it" his voice seemed to break halfway. Mohinder's eyes widened, it sounded the same as the tape, he shook his head- _can't be_- he couldn't…could he? Mohinder would have given anything to be wrong at this point, though he knew it would be a moot point

"Control what? Who are you?" His frustration with himself dripped into his voice. he wanted desperately to be wrong. He was lying to himself; the man on the other line sounded just like _Him_. He looked around, looking for any trace of _Him._ The voice on the other line hissed, in what he assumed was; pain- Good.

"He…I…killed her, Mohinder. I killed my own mother!" Mohinder nearly dropped the phone- unable to hold back the inevitable gasp of shock the man had committed matricide.

"Sylar?"

He'd finally said the name he'd tried so hard to forget – his mind working overtime to keep certain memories back.

"No, not Sylar now, this is Gabriel."

The killer sounded…broken, haunted, almost- and was he crying? Did he actually feel remorse?-Why should he care?

"Where are you?"

He had no idea why he asked that. He'd seen what Sylar had done to Peter, to Dale…to Zane.

"I'm tired; Mohinder, so tired."

The man seemed to be running out of gas, like a clockwork toy in its final moments, his voice slurred with it.

"Sy-Gabriel, tell me where you are."

He sounded as though he was scolding a five year old. The man on the other line seemed nothing like his usual self, but then again it was to be expected, he'd just lost his mother

"189 Forty-eight Ave, L.I.C." his voice, almost a whisper. Suddenly there was a clatter on the other line.

"Sy- Gabriel, Gabriel? Are you there? Gabriel!" he closed his phone, what should he do, go to aid an unstable serial killer?- the very one and the same who'd pinned him to a ceiling almost a week ago; bruises still healing, who'd killed his father and so many others. Or let him be and go back to the compound, give Molly her medicine and work on rebuilding the list? He turned the car on and began driving.

* * *

cliff hanger...Ok I know the ringtone was lame, but if you think about it; it does kinda fit Sylar… btw in case you didn't't know that's "All these lives" by Daughtry, check it out sometime.  
Waddya think?


	3. Salvation and Damnation

Chapter 2: Salvation and damnation (are one in the same)

_**Total AU from here on out,**_

Eventual Mylar, Mohinder's POV again. **Longer** chapter finally!! **Really sorry **for not submitting anything; had a tragic and deadly case of writers block, and a play to practice for (Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew; m Katharina )

Word count: 2161

**_i dont mean to be rude while i'm at it people but REVIEW!! 535 views and only 2 reviews, and there from 2007!!_**

* * *

This part of the city had definitely seen better days. Cracks lined nearly every wall; like spider-webs, from years of neglected city life. The taxi pulled up along side one of the monotone buildings, 189 forty-eight Ave. Upon climbing out of the driver's seat; Mohinder once more found himself wishing he'd brought a thicker jacket as the wind blew again. The corroding building loomed ominously, so this was where it started; the origin of Sylar, or perhaps the death of Gabriel.

Doubt plagued his already taxed mind; should he really be doing this? It was probably a trap, After 'Zane' he really shouldn't underestimate the killer. He'd had the bruises and stitches to prove it, but there was something in the man's voice; something different, frail even. It was a stark contrast to the demeanor of 'Zane' or the malice that was Sylar.

The wind howled; a foreboding warning gone unheard by the Indian, as he tread into the old complex. The first floor seemed not much unlike his, dingy wallpaper clung for dear life to the grimy walls; the air was contaminated by a filthy mildew odor- tainted further by a slight metallic undertow. _ Almost like...blood._ Mohinder froze in place, His limbs locking in barely contained fear. No there was no turning back, this was it. He willed his limbs to move once more and stepped towards the stairs. Where was Sylar? _Gabriel_, he reminded himself.

The first floor was plain, nothing out of the ordinary- simple and benign; but as he'd grown to know, looks were often deceiving. He reached a hand to the railing and progressed up the stairs; the near metallic scent grew stronger, more ominous. At the landing of the second flood the scent was unmistakable; blood. His instinct to run once more kicked in; but he forced it back, taking a deep breath.

The second floor hallway... was empty, not even a paper littered the floor. One door at the end of the hall caught his eye; the door was open. As though possessed, he found himself walking to the door; instantly regretting it as he looked inside the room as his voice of reason made its presence known once more._ Oh, God, what the _hell _am I doing here!_

Inside the room was a sight of pure carnage, an almost impossible amount of blood stained the room; The majority of it in one large pool circling the mangled remains of what could only be assumed as a _His mother_. She lay ripped to shreds, a crater where her abdomen used to be, head lolled in a way impossible for any living thing. He tore his gaze from the room, trying desperately to keep the contents of his stomach from rebelling. How could anyone do _that_ to anyone let alone their own mother? The urge to run nipped away at the back of the geneticist's mind as he cast a look to the stairwell.

Was S-_Gabriel_ even still here? There was a good chance he could have taken off after the call. Just as he began to doubt the man he looked back to the rooms' direction and saw proof that the other man could still be there; a faint trail of bloody shoeprints from the doorway to the stairs. He paused slightly as theterm_ 'blood trail'_ popped up in his mind.

Mohinder followed the trail up a full flight, pausing at the slight puddle of blood on the third step of the fourth floor._ Is he injured?_ He continued up the steps; forth, fifth, and finally sixth floor to the door of the roof.

He pushed the door open, snow had begun to fall within the short time Mohinder'd searched the apartment. The surrounding city lights illuminated the rooftop revealing a light blanket dusted the cold rooftop and what appeared to be a person lying prone on the roof unconscious. He walked cautiously over to the man, still not convinced he was completely harmless. At first it didn't seem as though Gabriel was breathing, till he heard a faint rasping breath. The serial killer looked almost innocent, no longer dressed in all black or a trench coat. His face was contorted in what Mohinder assumed was pain, judging from the call, and trail of blood dripped slowly from the nasty cut to his lip. He shook the man gently; white flakes fell from his hair.

"Gabriel"

No response; How long had the man been out there? He must have been out for a good while, the man felt as cold as ice, his clothing soaked, and his skin; already becoming a sickly pale color.

"Gabriel."

He shook the man again. Gabriel groaned, coughing slightly. Mohinder released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He didn't understand why he felt so relieved this... _murderer _was okay, for the time being.

"You're soaked, how long have you been out here?" his questions went unanswered.

"Mohinder?" the broken man said as he lifted his head, blinking hazily trying in vain to clear his vision; sitting up, teetering slightly as he did so.

"I'm here, Gabriel." What more could he say? He shrugged of his jacket and draped it over the still watchmaker, who looked at him curiously.

"But why? After everything I- _He _did, why?" that was a good question, why had he, why after all this man had done to him and so many others had he chosen to come to his aid? Wait, why had he start talking in third person?

"I don't know, I really don't know." Mohinder was at a loss for explanations, he honestly didn't know why he did come. The wind blew across the roof, Mohinder crossed his arms to retain some warmth, Gabriel didn't even move.

"He's quiet for once" Gabriel said mutely; more to himself than Mohinder, he had to strain himself to hear it. He wiped a smear of blood from his chin.

"Who's quiet?" he was confused, and Gabriel was most likely sick; in more ways than one.

"_Sylar_" Gabriel said the word with a clear undertone of fear as he looked to the floor of the rooftop. Mohinder found his mind drifting back to the hidden room in Gabriel's apartment. _Forgive me, father. For I have sinned._

"Did he make you do everything?" Mohinder found himself saying before he could stop himself. The man before him was more than capable of killing him with the slightest gesture of his finger, and now he was claiming to have multiple personalities._ What a lovely combo._ He found himself thinking sarcastically.

"Yes" Gabriel said looking forlorn; almost like a child who'd just lost his parents, _well, that's just about right_. He turned his focus to worrying the coats' sleeves, almost hesitant to look Mohinder in the eyes again.

The taller man broke into a coughing fit, making Mohinder jump. He took a closer look at the man; he looked like death warmed over. His pale skin seemed to lighten in the short time they talked. His brown eyes seemed so shallow, if not pained; drooping every now and then from exhaustion. He looked so different in those clothes, lacking his usual dark, menacing attire. He really did seem innocent like this, albeit broken but still- not beyond repair.

"Gabriel" he spoke softly to not scare him; the man in question looked up quickly, abandoning the sleeve he'd began worrying only moments before,.

"We need to get out of here" Gabriel shook his head vehemently at this, _what now?_

Mohinder's conscience groused.

"No, _He'll_ come back._ He _always comes back." The timid mans voice cracked as he said this Mohinder's eyes widened, so that's what this was about.

"Gabriel, we can help you. There's a company." He reasoned; though Gabriel wouldn't have it. He shook his head and clenched his fists at his sides on the roof floor.

"Didn't help last time... nearly died. Someone else did."

"What if this time they know what they're doing?" that seemed like a long shot to Mohinder. Gabriel went silent, seemingly thinking it over.

"Do you work for them?" he asked quietly a hint of hope in his voice.

"For now, yes." This was it, either Gabriel agreed or... he didn't even want to think of what would happen should Gabriel refuse his help.

"I'll do it, one condition." Once bleary eyes stared seriously; Mohinder swore he saw a glimpse of Sylar in those eyes.

"Keep me on curare or something until he's gone for good." That was reasonable enough.

"And if you can't..." he seemed unable to finish his sentence. _God, he couldn't be suggesting._

"You have my word." Mohinder agreed trying to not think about being forced to kill someone so... broken and as much as he hated to admit it; failing to restrain Sylar one way or another would be fatal to everyone involved.

Gabriel visibly relaxed after that agreement, not sensing at all the internal battle Mohinder had just ended in his mind. He stumbled to his feet.

The walk down the stairs was silent. The taller man teetered a few times, until Mohinder steadied him, though he never said a word. Mohinder took extra care to ensure that Gabriel could not see Virginia's apartment by purposely blocking the timid mans view of the room to the best of his ability. This was in vain, because Gabriel; for the most part never lifted his gaze from the ground; only to murmur a quick thanks when Mohinder helped him regain his balance.

Mohinder opened the passenger side of his cab and Gabriel fell boneless into the seat, haphazardly attempting to buckle his seatbelt once Mohinder closed the door. Once he heard the buckle click he tugged Mohinder's jacket tighter, and turned his body towards the window, closing his eyes. Mohinder meanwhile made his way around the car pausing at his door he reached for his cell phone. The man with horn rimmed glasses, Mr. Bennet as he knew him, had given him a number to call if he ever again found himself with a captive Sylar. Fumbling with the number pad, he dialed the number; after two rings Mr. Bennet answered.

"Doctor Suresh"

"Bennet"

"Do you have him?" the man was straight to the point as ever.

"Yes, but there's a problem, he says he's not Sylar." Mohinder didn't know how to say it any other way.

"But he is."

"He is the right man, but he says Sylar made him do it. I thought he was insane at first; the way he'd talk about himself in third person. But I suppose it is possible. I wasn't convinced though until he made me promise to tranquilize him until 'Sylar' was gone and if I couldn't do that he told me to kill him."

The other man paused for a moment before saying something away from the phone, probably to someone else; but then again, when did Bennet travel with anyone?

"Where are you now?" Bennet asked, turning his attention to Mohinder once more.

"189 forty-eight Ave. Why?"

"Alright, we'll meet you at your father's apartment. Don't let him out of your sight."

The phone clicked _what no goodbye?_ Mohinder thought halfheartedly; the other man had a habit of hanging up without warning.

He shut his phone, slipping his phone into his pocket before getting in the car; making an effort to shut the door as quietly as possible so to not disturb Gabriel, resulting in the other twitching slightly. he turned the car on, almost instantly turning on the heat for Gabriel's sake after seeing the man still shaking. He pulled the car out of its spot and drove back towards his so called home.

* * *

So yea, what did you think? come one lemme know u know you wanna just click that purple-ish box by the left. ooh and you guys can help too see my train of thought crashed and i need to know if either Matt or the Haitian (or both) should be with Bennet. let me know what you think and I might be able to make up my mind for the next part of the plot a lot faster.


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